


Someday I'll Let You Help Me With This

by CarylDixonandGrimes (FandomLifeTookMyHandAndSaidRUN)



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Deviates From Canon, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, caryl fic war, season 6
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-24 02:23:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9695534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FandomLifeTookMyHandAndSaidRUN/pseuds/CarylDixonandGrimes
Summary: The aftermath of the altercation between Carol and Morgan from season 6 episode 8.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Another Caryl Fic War installment from early 2016, this one has several chapters. I'm not sure if I ever actually finished it, but there's at least three short chapters.

Rick cradled Carol’s limp body in his arms as he ascended the steps from the basement holding cell. Her head lolled back in his haste to get her off and away from that concrete floor. He hustled as best he could down the sidewalk, toward the infirmary, the house, he didn’t know. He just needed to get her somewhere safe, until the wall was properly secured and any straggling walkers dispatched.

He heard a clatter behind him, and whirled around in response, shifting her in his arms ready to grab for his Python if need be. Daryl stood maybe 10 yards away, his crossbow wobbling on the ground where he had so carelessly dropped it. Rick saw the sharp intake of breath, more than he heard it given the distance. Daryl’s hand trembling as he reached forward taking a few feeble steps toward Rick.

“Is she…” his voice cracked, he cleared his throat and tried again. “Is she gone?”

Rick looked down at Carol, shifting her once more and her arm fell like dead weight from her side.

“What? No. No, Daryl. She’s not dead, just unconscious.”

“Give her here then,” came his hoarse whisper. “Give her to me!” He held his arms out to take her slender form, tucking her head under his chin, holding her close. He took a seat on the nearby steps, draping her across his lap. Trembling fingers traced the edge of her hairline, the smooth length of her jaw, and he thumbed over her chin. A purple bruise was blossoming beneath a blood scrape on her forehead.

“Who did this to her?” he growled.

Rick looked away pinching the bridge of his nose.

“It was Morgan,” he admitted, his voice heavy with what sounded like regret. After a beat, he walked over and squatted down next to Daryl.

“We’ll know more, when she wakes up and we have a chance to talk. We’ll handle this. Together,” Rick insisted, doing his best to keep his tone firm and even. A promise.

Daryl looked Carol up and down, checking for injuries, noting her revolver and knife were missing. He gently felt each leg and arm checking for broken bones, breathing a sigh of relief when he found none. A gentle prodding to the ribs yielding the same, she was intact.  
There was a subtle twitch as he resettled her in his arms, her eyelids fluttering before opening. Glazed and unfocused, blinking several times before alighting on his face. She closed her eyes and smiled in relief,

“You’re back… I hope I’m not dreaming, are those Daryl Dixon’s hands on me? This better be real.”

“Won’t ask you the year or what day it is, cuz I sure as hell don’t know,” he replied, ignoring her question.

Opening her eyes once more, she reached up to cup his face, letting her fingers rasp against the stubble that lay there. Wincing as she reached further up, she raked her fingers through the tangled filthy mess that was his hair.

“You shower yet?” she asked.

With a smirk and a quick “mm-hm,” he nodded his head.

“Liar,” she grinned back at him. “I’m really gonna have to hose you down when you sleep, now aren’t I?”


	2. Chapter 2

“I can walk on my own, Daryl.  Really.”  Carol insisted as Daryl gripped her tight in his arms, pulling himself to standing.  

“Pfft.  We still got walkers wandering ‘round in here, this’ll be quicker,” he insisted.

Carol looked to Rick, who only shrugged with that all-knowing shit eating grin of his.  “What you smilin’ at, Grimes?” Daryl growled at him noticing Rick’s eyes on them both.

“Just happy to have you back, sunshine,” he chuckled.  “I got yer back, get her home and some ice on that bruise on her head.  We can handle what’s goin’ on out here.”

Daryl nodded, and made haste for “home.”  Carol kept a tight grip, her arms wrapped around Daryl’s neck.  She couldn’t hide the smirk that lit up her face, even despite the aches and pains from having been thrust so heartlessly to the ground earlier that morning.

With little effort, they were up the stairs of the porch and at their door in moments.  “Put me down, please,” she asked again, gently.  With a hesitant nod, he let her legs down first, keeping a firm grip around her waist.  “You can let me go, you know.  I’m not so fragile,” she brushed the dust from the front of his vest, pausing to hold her hand over his heart.  To feel it’s strong steady beat beneath her fingertips, grounding her, reminding her she was still here, as was he.

His strong hands met hers, cupping them, and running his thumbs over her scraped knuckles.  She watched as his eyes darkened, and his lips turned down into a frown.

“I’m okay.  I’m still here,” she reminded him.

“I tried to come back sooner.  If I had-”

“Mm-mm.  Sorry Pookie, we’re not going there.  What’s done, is done.  No wallowing,” she chucked a finger under his chin raising his face to meet hers.  “I know you.  Now take me inside, make yourself useful.  It’ll help.  And I’ve got a throbbin’ headache that needs tending to.”

“How do you do that?” he asked, his arm still wrapped around her, with a free hand reaching for the knob.

“Do what?”

“Act like nothing happened?”  Now it was his turn to watch as her eyes darkened and filled with tears, the flirtatious smirk fell from her face.

“It’s how I cope,” she whispered with trembling lips.  He ran a thumb under her eye to wipe away the tear that spilled there.  

“There’s something to be said for wallowing… Feeling it,” he offered.

“Please, Daryl.  Can we not?  I just want to go inside.  And you’ve been on the road for days.  You must be hungry, I got a casserole I can heat up, and-” her words were muffled by the finger pressed to her lips.

“Uh-uh, see?  There you go again.  Taking care of everyone else before you take care of yourself.  You’re gonna burn yourself out someday, woman.  You don’t want to talk, that’s fine.  But you’re gonna let somebody take care of you, for once.  Let me, for real this time.”  He pulled open the door, and ushered her inside  “Couch, now.”  He helped ease her down onto the cushion, and disappeared off into the kitchen.  She heard him opening cabinets and drawers, running the water, and the beeps of the keypads on the microwave.  Several minutes later he appeared back at her side, cup of tea steeping in a mug, bottle of painkillers, and some ice wrapped in a hand towel.

“Gotta keep you awake, you now.  Concussion and all,” he mumbled.  She offered him a grateful smile as she pulled two tablets from the bottle of medicine, and took a sip of her tea swallowing the pills down.

“I’ll be okay.”

“Well, better safe than sorry,” he grumbled as he sat down on the cushion next to her.

“I wasn’t talking ‘bout this,” she gestured to her head.  She put a hand over her heart, patting it gently, her eyes welling once again. “Someday…. I’ll let you help me with this.”


	3. Chapter 3

Daryl had left Carol alone for a few moments while he met Rick at the door, to give him an update on Carol’s status as well as to hear about the goings on within the community.  

“She okay?” he asked quietly, leaning in towards Daryl.

“Mm-hm,” he nodded.  “Going to be real sore the next few days, going to have to fight her to keep her off duty.”

“She’ll take it better coming from you,” Rick grimaced.

Daryl groaned leaning his head back against the doorway at the thought of having to give her that news, “She’s a force to be reckoned with.”

“You been gone a few day, you need the rest anyhow.  How about you keep each other company-”

“What? No way, man.  The wall, there’s still walkers inside.  The dead to be buried…”

“We’re secure. For now.  We made it a few days without you, we can make it a few more.  Just… rest easy.  You both deserve a break.  Maggie’s handling the kids, you two just relax.  I’ll be back after dark, and I know Carol has us well stocked in the freezer so you don’t even have to worry about cooking.”

“But-”

“You’ll be fine, go take care of your woman.”

“She ain’t-” he stuttered.

“She is.  And she’s everything to us.  Go tend to her, see you at sundown!”  Rick waved a hand as he hopped down the stairs and took off toward the fractured wall.  Tobin could be seen in the distance, bruised and bloodied, but screwing together boards for reinforcements until the sheet metal panels could be replaced.  Eager as he was to get out there and help, he knew he was needed inside.

He flopped himself down on the armchair next to Carol with a dramatic sigh.

“Problem?” she asked, looking up from the book she was reading.

“Nah, Rick wants us to take a few days.  Make sure you’re okay, and I’m… whatever.”

“And you’d rather be out there than in here?”

“Duh!” He smacked his hand over his eyes when he realized what he said.  “No, I mean.  I’m cool being here with you making sure you’re okay and all, but-”

“I know, you’re more of a… hands on kind of guy.”

“Something like that.”

“Have you even had a chance to rest?  You’ve been gone for days.  Have you eaten? Slept? Anything?”

“No…”

“And there’s dried blood on your hands, got anything that needs tending to?”

“No. Maybe.  S’nothing.”  He tucked his hands into the space between his biceps and chest, and turned his head toward the door, hoping for a distraction like maybe someone would be coming back to refill canteens or grab snacks for the workers.

“Scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours?”

He turned back toward her with a scowl, “what do ya mean?”

“Honestly?  Right now I want nothing more than a long soak in the tub with some epsom salts.”

“You’re crazy, you can’t even walk up them stairs on yer own.”

“Daryl, I don’t like asking for help-”

“Fine, woman.  I’ll carry you up.  Want me to get one of the girls though, help you…” he blushed, and flapped his hand toward her awkwardly.

“Stop.  It’s nothing you haven’t seen before, I promise I’ll do my best not to embarrass you.  Much.”  She giggled as he blushed furiously beneath the hand he clapped over his face.  

“Fine.  You’ll be the death of me anyhow.”

He got her up the stairs and settled on the edge of the tub, letting her tend to the water temperature and dumping in some lavender scented epsom salts that made him sneeze, and some bubble bath.  With some finagling she got her bottom half undressed, and covered her lap with a face cloth for Daryl’s sake.  He gently pulled the shirt over her head, and helped her swing her legs around into the tub.  All that remained was her bra.  

“Can you?  I can’t bend my arms to do undo the hooks.”

Daryl winced as he reached forward trying his best not to look at her, but at the same time gaping at the bruises forming on her backside.

“All set…”  He turned his back, and listened for her sliding down into the water.  She flung her bra at him and it landed on his shoulder, causing him to jump.

“Was that necessary?”

He heard her giggling from the tub.  “Oh come on, Daryl.  Lighten up.  This was nothing.  Wait until I have to get out of the tub!”

“Oh no…” he groaned.


	4. Chapter 4

“You’re always welcome to join me, this spa tub is huge!”  She snorted she was giggling so hard, which made Daryl smirk and shake his head.  

“Just holler when yer done…” he stepped toward the door.

“Oh come on, just sit with me.  Keep me company. Please?”  

Daryl’s shoulders sagged in obvious defeat, and he looked around the bathroom for a place to sit.  He settled himself with his back against the tub, with her behind him so he he wouldn’t have any of her parts in his line of sight.  And he had a view of the goings on outside the window.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Since when do you ask permission to do anything?  I can feel you rolling your eyes at me.”

“Are you happy here?”

“Mmm,” he hummed thoughtfully.  “Good place for Asskicker and Carl.”

“But that’s not what I asked.”

He shrugged, “as good a place as any.”

“It’s just… sometimes you get that long way off look in your eye when you look out the window.  And you look so sad.”

He didn’t respond, just drew up his knee resting his elbow on it, chewing on the edge of his thumbnail.

“It’s okay to miss them.  I do.”

“You never talk about them.  Any of them,” he countered.

“Neither do you,” she responded, sinking down to her neck in the hot water, letting out a little sigh as the heat soaked into her aching body.

“Pfft.  What’s the point in talking, nobody misses Merle,” his voice barely a whisper.

“You do,” he could feel her eyes on the back of his head, watching as his head hung a bit, and he picked at the fraying patch on the knee of his pants.

“Yeah, well… you never talk ‘bout Sophia.  Or them girls,” he threw it back at her.

“Would you like to talk about Merle?  He was important to you.  You’re important to me, so that makes him important to me too,” ignoring that he was throwing the girls in her face again.

“Nah.”

“Okay then, can you wash my hair for me?”  She knew better than to push, or those walls around his heart would just get built up higher, and there’d be no hope of getting in.

“What?”  

“There’s a plastic cup on the sink, just run some water over my head.  I’ll soap it up, and you can rinse.  Then I’ll be good as new.”

With a grumble, he got the cup for her, averting his eyes as she pulled her legs up and leaned forward, wrapping her arms around her knees.

“Relax, I’m decent.”

He dumped several cups over her head, avoiding spilling it into her eyes.  Grabbed the shampoo, and poured some into his hand.  He rubbed it across his hands, and then over her hair.  

“Ohhhh….” Carol groaned, the kind that sounded unmistakably like pleasure.

“Um, too much?” he asked.

“No, that feels good.  More.”

So he continued, massaging the shampoo into her scalp with his finger tips, and the moans didn’t stop.

“Careful there woman, or folks’ll think there’s something PG-13 going on up here.”

“Oh honey, you haven’t lived until you’ve had someone wash your hair for you.  I had forgotten how good it feels.  It’s almost better than sex!”

“This can’t be better than sex.  Either that or you ain’t been done right and proper.”

“Oh?” quipped Carol as she turned to look at him over her shoulder, “Do tell!”  And she waggled an eyebrow at him salaciously.

“Stop.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok, so I was wrong. This was more than a few installments, but I'm not complaining! Here's some more fluff!

After Daryl finished rinsing Carol’s hair, he took his leave to go shower in the downstairs bath.  His arm was still bloodied and in need of cleaning anyway, and Carol wanted a bit more time to soak in the tub.  Before he came back upstairs, he made her another cup of tea knowing it helped her to relax.  He set it on her bedside table, and then padded barefoot up to the bathroom door knocking gently before poking his head around the door.

“Just give a holler when you’re ready to come out.”

“I can come out now, my bubbles are almost gone,” she stifled a groan as she sat back up hugging her knees to her chest while reaching forward to start draining the tub.  “If you could just lift me back up to the side of the tub, I can manage the rest I think.”

He reached under her arms, lifting her easily to perch on the side of the tub, and grabbed a towel draping it over her shoulders.

“Your arm, it’s still bleeding,” she noted as he walked back toward the door.

“Mm, gonna go patch it up.”

“Let me do it?” she asked, wrapping the towel around herself, then swinging her legs over the tub and standing up.  She offered a small smile, “repayment for helping me?”

“You gonna put some clothes on first or something?”

“Am I making you uncomfortable, Daryl?”

“No,” he stammered.  “Just figured you’d be cold, is all.”

“Go get the kit, give me a few minutes to get dressed, then meet me in my room.”

She managed without too much discomfort to get herself dried off and into a comfortable outfit, and sat perched on the edge of her bed waiting for Daryl to return.  Looking around the modestly decorated room, she marveled at how far they had all come.  Never once thinking she’d get the opportunity to sleep in a real bed again, behind secure walls, with her family.  Her eyes passed over the framed paintings on the wall, the tall oak dresser below it, passing over the curtained windows and on to her bedside table.  A small mug, still steaming, sat there.

“Oh,” she breathed, reaching forward taking it in both hands, relishing the warmth on her aching fingers and silently thanking Daryl for his thoughtfulness.  For as gruff as the man was, his mind always seemed to be on others, taking care of them often before his own self.

“Where do you want me?” he asked as he wandered back in with the first aid kit in hand.  She looked up at him, unable to stop the grin stretching across her face at the sight of him.  His hair was still dripping wet, but he was in a sleeveless grey shirt and a pair of jeans that were just a hair too big in the waist and hung low on his hips, and pale bare toes peeking out from beneath the dragging hem. 

“Those poor sleeves,” she snickered.  “Didn’t stand a chance, did they?”

“What?  They get in the way, and they chafe my pits when I sweat.  I’m just being practical.”

“Why not just take it off entirely?”  The question was out before she even realized it she had said it, and she watched as eyes dropped to the kit in his hand, his mouth pressing into a thin line.

“You seen why,” he mumbled.  She had seen the thick scars that criss crossed his back when they were still on the Greene farm.  She had never said anything about them, but could relate in that her scars that she carried were invisible, they were within having suffered years of verbal abuse from her husband Ed.  Though there were times she carried the physical marks of his abuse, those had faded with the years, and she found herself silently thankful that she was never on the receiving end of Ed’s belt.

“I’m sorry…” she patted the bed beside her, “Let’s get you patched up.”

The bed dipped as he sat next to her, and she rifled through the kit for what she needed.  Minutes later he was properly bandaged.  He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, suddenly feeling the exhaustion from days without proper rest.  Carol reached over propping up the pillows on the bed.  She scooted back, leaning into them semi-reclined and patted the bed beside her.  “Sit with me awhile?” she asked.

“Hm?” he eyed her over his shoulder, eyes bleary with the need for sleep.  

“Please?  I feel like it’s been days since I last saw you.  We don’t have to talk or anything if you don’t want to, I just don’t feel like being alone right now…”

It was out of character for Carol to ask for help.  She was a doer, she took care of things herself.  Having already allowed him to help her into and out of the tub, and then asking him to sit with her?  Of all the people in their family that she could have asked, she had asked him.  The bed was comfortable, the pillows inviting, and he did so enjoy her company.  It had been days since he last saw her, even longer than that since they had spoken or spent any time within each other’s proximity.  He found he missed her quiet companionship.  With one last look out the window to see that the walls were secured, and the people of the community moving about freely, he took his place on the bed beside her.  He lay on his side facing her, his fingers tracing over the pattern of the quilt.

She watched as his breathing evened out, as his lids became heavier and heavier, yet still his fingers moved.  “Don’t fight it, I’ll wake you if we’re needed,” she reached out covering his hand with her own, stilling his fingers.  She didn’t let go, instead scooting a little closer, and leaning down to kiss him on the top of his head.  “Get some rest,” she whispered, leaning her cheek against his head.  Her hands still on his, she gave him a squeeze, and he squeezed back.  His eyes closed, and he moved closer to lean his head against her shoulder, almost nuzzling into her neck.  He hummed, and her eyes closed along with him, falling into a dreamless sleep.

 

* * *

 

“Rick, what do you make of all this?” whispered Michonne from the open doorway.  She leaned against the frame, and Rick stood in the hall behind her looking over her shoulder at the pair that lay entangled on the bed.  It had been hours since Rick had left Daryl and Carol at the house.  The walls had been secured, a watch detail arranged, and he was finally free to come back home for a meal and to wash up.  He placed his hands on Michonne’s shoulders giving them an affectionate rub, “I don’t know…  Kind of jealous if you ask me.  Couldn’t tell you the last time I slept that soundly.”

“Are you not seeing what I’m seeing?” she asked, leaning back into this hands as his thumbs pushed deep into the muscles between her shoulders.  “That’s Daryl, and Carol.  In bed.  Together.”

“Mm,” he agreed, squeezing the muscles over her shoulders and up her neck.  “They look comfortable.”

“But they’re touching.  And all… cute and snuggly.  Look, he’s got his leg and his arm draped over her.  Her nose is all in his hair.  It looks almost… fluffy.”

Rick paused his movements on her shoulders, and she turned her head to look at him.  “Guess she finally managed to hose ‘im off.”  He shrugged, and smiled down at Michonne.  “I’m about to go hose off myself, join me?”

Michonne glared back at Rick, cocking her head to the side for a moment before her lips spread into a wide grin.  “Be careful what you ask for, Rick.You just might get it.”

“Let her wash your hair Rick, I hear it’s a religious experience.  Better ‘an sex, from what I hear,” Daryl hadn’t moved, his eyes were still closed, but the smirk on his face betrayed him.

“That’s only if you haven’t been done right,” quipped Michonne

 


End file.
